


Broken Dreams, Second Chances

by chakimcai



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 7,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chakimcai/pseuds/chakimcai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a work in progress, loosely based on real events in the life of Carl "Alfalfa" Switzer, in which fictional characters intervene and save him from a tragic and untimely death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

The evening of January 21st, 1959, Jeanne Kellermann got ready to visit the bar where she and her friends sometimes liked to hang out and have a few drinks. On that night, however, her reason for going there was a little different, and she would be going alone.

She would not even be going as herself. Normally an attractive, stylish young woman, she was now making herself so drab as to be unrecognizable. Her copper hair, which ordinarily cascaded down her back, was pinned up and carefully concealed under a shoulder length brunette wig. Perched on the end of her nose was the ugliest pair of reading glasses she could find, and she was wearing a long gray denim dress her sister had made to demonstrate to her class what not to make. _I look terrible,_ Jeanne thought as she looked at herself in the mirror. _I look perfect._

She got some money out of her purse and stuck it in her dress pocket and she was ready.

 

 

Chapter One

“Where to, miss?” the cab driver asked as Jeanne slid into the back seat. She told him the address, and they took off. This wasn’t her favorite transportation - she found some cab drivers smelly and obnoxious - but she thought it was best not to bring her own car. Someone at the bar might recognize it.

At long last Jeanne arrived at her destination. She paid her fare, gave the driver a generous tip and told him to buy some deodorant.

Feeling nervous about what she was going to do, she walked into the bar. She took a deep breath and began to speak in an unnaturally whiny, nasally tone. “Good evening, I’m looking for a Mr. Carl Switzer.”

A young man with dark hair and freckles motioned for her to come to his table. He seemed to be studying her face. “I’m Carl Switzer. Haven’t I seen you in here before?”

“No, I’ve never been here in my life.” Jeanne tried to keep her voice from trembling. “I just moved into town this afternoon. From Maine.” That was far away enough, she guessed. “My name is Maureen Pembroke. Mr. Stiltz sent me here. He said he owes you fifty dollars for finding his lost dog.” She pulled the wad of bills out of her pocket and counted them. “Apparently he’s decided to make it eighty dollars,” she said, handing Carl the money.

But he wasn’t taking it. “Yesterday Bud said he wouldn’t pay me back. Now you’re tellin’ me he sent you here to give me eighty dollars instead of the fifty I wanted. What made him change his mind, and why didn’t he bring it himself?”

“He didn’t change his mind,” Jeanne said, feigning sarcasm, although the words she spoke were actually true. “This isn’t Mr. Stiltz’s money. It’s mine. Really! Do I look like I can afford to use my own money to pay another person’s debt for no reason other than I just want to?”

Carl’s friend Jack Piott came over and sat down. “What’s goin’ on? Who’s this?” he asked, pointing at Jeanne.

“So many questions!” Jeanne remarked. “He’s getting eighty dollars, I’m nobody, you’ve never seen me before and I’m leaving.” She dropped the money on the table and ran out.

Carl shrugged and finished his beer. “She claims Bud sent her to give me the money he owed me. There’s just somethin’ strange about her. I don’t think she’s who she says she is.”

“Go try to catch her,” Jack suggested. “Find out what she’s up to.”


	2. Chapter 2

Carl found Jeanne in a phone booth two blocks from the bar. She had discarded the wig and glasses and taken her hair down, but he recognized that awful gray dress. Quietly he opened the door and heard her frantically pleading with Bud Stiltz to corroborate her story. He listened for about a minute before he tapped her on the shoulder.

Jeanne turned around and let out a gulp. “Gotta go. Bye,” she said and quickly hung up the phone.

“Hi, Red!” Carl greeted her. “I knew I’d seen you at that bar before. Me and the fellas would joke that whoever walked around in the dark with you didn’t need a flashlight.”

“Thanks...I think,” Jeanne said. “So, ah, how much of that did you hear just now?”

“Enough to know that you lied.” Carl spoke sternly, but with a slightly amused smile. “Now why don’t you tell me what’s really goin’ on?“

“All right. My real name is Jeanne. I’ve been one of your biggest fans since I was little, and the other day I overheard you say something about Mr. Stiltz owing you and refusing to pay. I can’t honestly say you’re right and he’s wrong, but I decided I wanted you to have the money anyway. The decision wasn’t hard. My sister and I each inherited half a million dollars from our grandfather.”

For a moment Carl just stood there, feeling surprised, uncomfortable and upset. Without saying a word he put the money back in Jeanne’s pocket and walked away.


	3. Chapter 3

“So lemme get this straight,” Jack said after Carl had explained the situation. “The girl is beautiful and rich, she wanted to pay what Bud owed you out of her own money just because she likes you, and you made her take it back? So what if she misrepresented herself. You know she meant well.” He shook his head. “She must be heartbroken.”

Carl frowned. “When you say it like that you make me sound like an asshole.”

“You are an asshole.” Jack punched him on the arm. “Now go find her and talk to her.”

That was the last thing Carl wanted to do. He had never been good at apologizing to people. Besides, the girl surely had to be long gone by now. 

He had just finished saying this when Jeanne walked in and sat down at the table nearest the door. She appeared to be waiting for someone. “You were saying?” Jack drawled, punching him on the arm again.

Carl glared at him. “You really gotta stop doin’ that shit.” He rubbed his arm and looked over at Jeanne, who immediately got up and ran to the ladies’ room. 

In the split second that their eyes met he saw that she had been crying. He told himself it didn’t have anything to do with him. Unfortunately he was surrounded by about twenty people who collectively had a different opinion. The fact that he had had too much to drink didn’t help. Angry and frustrated that Jack and everyone else seemed to be against him, he stormed into the ladies’ room, grabbed Jeanne and ordered her to go tell them he did not make her cry.

Luckily no one else was in there, or Carl would almost certainly have had at least one unforgiving female to take her knee to his crotch. Jeanne’s first thought was to do exactly that, and if any other man decided to pull that stunt, she probably would have. But she could not bring herself to hurt her beloved Alfie.

She looked up at him, her green eyes filled with disappointment. In his drunken state he imagined she was looking at him with a mix of pity and contempt.

“Damn it bitch, what the fuck is wrong with you?” he shouted, slapping her. “You think you’re better than me, Miss Halfamillion, ‘here, have eighty dollars, it don’t matter, I still have everything I want.’ Fuck you.” He stomped out, leaving Jeanne alone to cry again.

“What?” he snapped at a blonde girl who was looking at him curiously. “Ain’t you ever seen a man comin’ out of the bathroom before?”

“Yes, I have,” the girl answered, not the least bit fazed. She pointed at the door with the word MEN on it. “That one. Try learning to read.”

The girl went in and found her sister crumpled on the couch, her face buried in one of the pillows. She put her hand on her shoulder. “It’s just me, Portia,” she said. “We don’t have to leave exactly yet. Let’s just sit here and you can tell me what happened.”

“He slapped me - he accused me of thinking I’m better than him...” Jeanne lay her face back in the pillow.

“Jeanne, look at me,” Portia said. “You certainly are better than anyone who would treat you like that. For his benefit you actually wore this nasty rag in public. I don’t know many people who would do that. He doesn’t deserve to have you as a friend. Now I think we need to go out there and...see if all those martial arts lessons Daddy made us take are good for anything.”

Jeanne laughed a little. She knew Portia would be more than happy to take Carl down with one well-executed kick to the ribs, and for once, she thought she might enjoy seeing that.

“There!” her sister laughed. “There’s the happy, sparkly girl we all know and love.” The two girls hugged.

They didn’t notice that the door was open a crack, or that Carl was standing right behind it listening to them.


	4. Chapter 4

He was starting to feel bad about what he had done, but he told his conscience to shut up. She was the one who should feel bad, he thought, because she had seen him so many times before and never bothered to speak to him until she thought he needed - he couldn’t stand even to think the word - charity.

Carl stepped away from the door. The girls were bound to come out any minute and he was not about to be caught eavesdropping. Dizzily he went back to where Jack was sitting and got another drink.

“Is she all right?” Jack wanted to know.

“Her sister’s with her now,” Carl mumbled, wishing Jack would just drop the subject.

“And?” Jack was not going to let it drop. “I bet you made it worse, didn’t ya? What did the fuck d’ya do to her?”

Carl got annoyed. He didn’t like Jack’s I-told-you-so tone of voice. “I don’t need you to fuckin’ tell me how to treat women, okay?”

“Says the man who couldn’t stay married long,” Jack said under his breath.

That made Carl really mad. Almost without thinking he leaned over and punched his friend in the jaw. The two men were soon having it out while a crowd of onlookers gathered around them and cheered. Jeanne and Portia heard the noise and came out. Seeing what was happening, they decided they should go ahead and leave.

They had just got to the door when Jeanne was startled by someone’s hand on her shoulder.


	5. Chapter 5

“It’s just me,” Carl said. He had a black eye and was holding a rag on his nose to stop it from bleeding. “I, ah, wanted to tell you I’m sorry about the way I acted. Can I come outside with you?”

Jeanne smiled and nodded and let Carl open the door for her. “I’m sorry if I made you look bad in front of your friends,” she said as they stepped into the parking lot. She giggled. “It was sort of funny when you busted in on me in the ladies’ room like a madman - at least it was until you slapped me.” Turning serious, she added, “Don’t try that again. You were lucky I was the only one there at the time. You did it for nothing, you know. I actually wasn’t crying.”

“Yeah, you were. I could tell,” Carl said, giving her a quick hug. “And I knew it was ’cause of me. Jack and all them knew it, too. They let me have it real good for wantin’ to hurt such a beautiful and generous girl. I guess that was why I got mad.” They walked on and slowly made their way toward Portia’s pink convertible. “So you really thought it was funny? Cause I’ve done a lot of stupid shit I shouldn’t have and I don’t remember anyone laughin’ at it. I know I made a lot of people mad.”

“Jeanne! Come on!” Portia called out. She had already started the car.

“Coming!” Jeanne answered back. “Carl, do you want to ride with us? It wouldn’t be any trouble, really.” She mouthed the word ‘please’ to her sister. “Portia agrees with me you shouldn’t be driving tonight.”

“OK, I’ll go with you,” Carl agreed and told Portia where he lived. It was a little bit out of her way, but she decided it would be all right just this once. She did not like him much and could not understand what Jeanne saw in him.

“Jeanne and her two best friends are really big fans of your film work. The rest of us in our sorority house make fun of them and call them the Alpha Alpha chapter,” Portia said, laughing.

“Oh no,” Carl groaned. Jeanne did not feel like bickering with her sister, so she said nothing.

Portia switched on the radio and turned it to the news. No one spoke until they got to Carl’s house.


	6. Chapter 6

“Well, thank you both for helpin’ me,” Carl said as he got out of the car and started to walk to his front door. He was a little wobbly, so the girls got out and walked with him. “You want to come in, get a drink or anything?”

Portia shook her head no. “Thanks, but we have to get back. The wedding dress I’m making is due this week and I’ll be up all night with it. And if I know my sister, she’ll want to stay with you all night.”

Carl’s jaw dropped at that.

“Portia Renae Kellermann!” Jeanne cried out angrily. “How could you tell him that?!” Mortified, she ran back to the car and lay face down in the back seat. No doubt Carl would never want to look at her again after this. He wouldn’t have to. She would continue to lay like that until the car was a mile or two down the road. There would be no more going out for drinks with her friends, either.

As she lay there, mentally preparing herself to start staying in every night so as to keep out of Carl’s way, she heard the door open on the passenger side.

“Don’t bother me back here, Portia,” she mumbled, not moving or looking up. “Just drive the damn car.”

“She’s goin’ on without you, Jeanne,” Carl said, taking her hand and helping her out of the car. “I’ll get you another way home. You and me need to talk about what just happened.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Jeanne brushed tears out of her eyes. “I already know what you think about me and I am giving you my word that you will never see me again. Goodbye, sir.” She turned and called for Portia to stop the car.

“Jeanne, wait,” Carl said quickly. “What do you think I think?”

“What do I know you think? That I was throwing myself at you like a starstruck fool,” Jeanne answered bitterly. “I always tried to act cool, like it was no big deal to be near you. Tonight I blew it. The look on your face when my sister said what she did said it all.”

“So all those times I saw you with your friends I wished you’d come over and talk to me, and that was the reason you never did?” Carl started to laugh. “Well, I’ll tell ya what, I don’t meet many starstruck fools these days. Remind me to ask Elvis Presley what his secret is.”

Jeanne pretended to make sure no one was listening, and then she said in hushed tones, “Elvis doesn’t sing off-key.”

“Sorry I asked,” he mumbled.

“I’m kidding! I know you can do so much more than people expect,” she declared with all the zeal of a million fans. “And you’re very attractive as well.”

She then asked him why he never came over to talk to her, either.

“Cause I was married once and it didn’t work out,” Carl said. “I have a son, five years old now, and I haven’t seen him since he was a baby. I don’t want to have that happen again. When you finally did speak to me I got scared.

“What your sister said surprised me, but it didn’t make me think any less of you, I just wanted you to know that. So cheer up, OK?” He kissed Jeanne gently on the cheek.

“Thanks, Carl.” Jeanne wiped one last tear away. “I’m so sorry to hear that you had to separate from your wife and son. Perhaps if you keep hanging in there, one day you’ll get another chance to win them back.”

“Yeah. Sure,” Carl mumbled, not believing for a minute that this could ever happen. “Let’s just go in, all right?” 

“Fine,” Jeanne agreed. “I’ll phone for something to eat. I know a great Chinese place that has gotten us girls through some long nights cramming for finals.” She did not mention that the place was in San Francisco, or that she and her friends paid through the nose to have the food delivered to them by helicopter.

“I haven't had much Chinese food,” Carl admitted as he put the key in the doorknob and turned it. “I’m not really sure what I should get.” He pushed the door open and they went in. 

“Sorry I didn’t think to bring a menu, then,” Jeanne replied, amused by her new friend’s lack of knowledge. “Let me see...Kung Pao chicken is really good if you like spicy food. It’s what I get for myself most of the time. Of course we will also order the dishes that you probably know, like chow mein, fried rice and egg rolls. And fortune cookies. I know you must have had those.”

“Sure I’ve had fortune cookies.” Carl thought Jeanne was acting needlessly superior, and so he made an unwise decision. “I think I want to try your King Kong chicken. How hot can it be?”


	7. Chapter 7

Jeanne got on the telephone and placed the order, while Carl turned on the television. The picture was a little wobbly, and as he fiddled with the antenna he noticed that Jeanne was speaking fluent Chinese. Did she always do that, he wondered, or was she just showing off in front of him? He tried to ignore her and not let her make him feel like an uneducated hick.

As soon as he was satisfied with the picture he went to the couch and sat down. Jeanne hung up the phone. “What’s on?” she asked. 

_“I Was a Teenage Frankenstein,”_ he answered a little sheepishly, lowering his eyes. “You probably don’t like -”

“Ooh, fun!” Jeanne plopped down at the opposite end of the couch. “You don’t know how long I’ve been dying to zone out with an awesomely bad movie like this one. At home, and even in the sorority house, this is strictly forbidden.” At that Carl started to feel a little more comfortable. 

Two hours later dinner arrived and Carl soon found out exactly how hot ‘King Kong chicken’ was. Jeanne decided she wanted to start with a fortune cookie when he stole a bite from the carton and put it in his mouth. Almost as quickly as he did so, he turned bright red and his eyes began to water. Jeanne laughed as she watched him run to the kitchen and drink three cups of cold water in the space of a minute. “So what did you think?” she asked with an impish grin.

Carl laughed it off and got two beers out of the refrigerator. “Real good,” he replied, though his tongue was still on fire. “Allow me to return the favor.” He filled his cup with water and threw it in Jeanne’s face.

“You are gonna be so sorry you did that,” Jeanne coughed and sputtered. She grabbed a beer bottle, shook it up as hard as she could and, pointing it at Carl, popped the lid off, spraying all the beer directly into his mouth. She rubbed her eyes and stared in disbelief.

“Say, that’s neat. Let’s see if it works again.” Carl took the other bottle and did as Jeanne had done. Ignoring her objections, he popped the lid off and drenched her.

“Your hypothesis was correct, miss,” he spoke in a fake English accent. “There was, in fact, no way in hell we could have accomplished that miracle a second time.”

“Just shut up and find me something of yours I can wear,” Jeanne growled, not really feeling angry or upset about what just happened. She turned the oven on to keep dinner warm while she showered and changed. Just then the doorbell rang.

“Who is it?” she called out.

“It’s Bud Stiltz!” a man answered back. Jeanne opened the door a crack and told him Carl was in the bathroom. Then she tried to close the door.

But Bud pushed his way in. “Ain’t you that girl who called me earlier? Yeah. You were tryin’ to get me to lie to Carl for you, and then you hung up on me.”

“Right. About that -- ” Jeanne began.

“I won’t do it,” Bud went on, ignoring Jeanne’s attempt to explain the situation. “Carl has got to get it through his head I don’t owe him a damn penny, And I don’t appreciate you tellin’ him I changed my mind, rich bitch.”

“Carl heard me on the phone with you,” Jeanne said. “He knows I brought him my own money and lied about it being from you. At first he didn’t even want to accept it, but I got through to him. So now, Mr. Stiltz, I think your business here is finished. Good night.”

“Young lady, my business here ain’t nowhere near finished.” Bud went and stood right at Carl’s bedroom door and pulled out a loaded pistol. “He’s gonna have to come out sometime, and when he does he’s a dead man. And don’t even think about goin’ in there to warn him. I got no problem killin’ both of you.”

Jeanne was frightened, but she had to do something, and fast. She took a deep breath, summoned all her courage and screeched at the top of her voice, “Carl, lock the door and get under the bed. Don’t ask why. Don’t come out no matter what you hear. I’ll be all right.” She silently prayed that it would be true.

Bud grabbed her and pressed the gun barrel against her stomach. His eyes were full of rage. “You know somethin’, bitch, there ain’t much difference between bravery and stupidity. You’re about to learn that the hard way.”

Suddenly, in desperation, Jeanne announced that she was pregnant. It had to be the stupidest thing she ever said. She could see that Bud wasn’t buying it. He pushed the gun into her stomach harder.

“Who’s your baby doctor?” he demanded. The question caught Jeanne off guard, but she quickly recovered and gave him the name of her mother’s former obstetrician.

Meanwhile, Carl had escaped through his bedroom window and went next door for help. His neighbor was angry at being awakened in the middle of the night, especially by someone who clearly had been drinking. He was about to slam the door in Carl’s face.

“Please let me use your phone,” Carl begged breathlessly, sweat pouring down his face. “Please, I think my friend’s in trouble. I need to call the police.” The neighbor reluctantly let him in and cursed under his breath as he went back to bed.

“Thanks,” Carl called behind him.

“I’m callin’ him,” Bud said, still holding Jeanne at gunpoint. “If he doesn’t remember you goin’ to see him recently, you and this fake baby of yours are both dead.” Jeanne’s heart plummeted. She was going to be killed and there was nothing else she could say or do to get out of it. For a moment she was sorry she put herself in the middle of Carl’s dispute with Bud, and then she changed her mind.

Bud thumbed through the phone book, looking for the name Jeanne had given him. Finally he found it and dialed the number to his office.

No answer.

After four rings Bud was redirected to the doctor’s home. “Hello?” a sleepy man’s voice said.

“I’m sorry to wake you, Doctor,” Bud said. “But I need you to tell me if a friend of mine has been to your office recently.”

“I’m not supposed to give out the names of my patients,” the doctor answered gruffly. “Now let me get some sleep.”

“I don’t need a name,” Bud persisted. “Is one of your patients a smallish young lady with very long red hair, just a few weeks pregnant?”

The doctor didn’t mind answering that question. “Thank you,” Bud said and hung up the phone.


	8. Chapter 8

Bud turned around and was surprised to see Carl come through the door with two policemen. Quickly he put his gun away. “This isn’t what it looks like, officers. I was just -- ”

“Going to shoot me in the stomach,” Jeanne broke in.

“No, I wasn’t,” Bud protested. “Just before you came in, I decided I couldn’t shoot her.” Too late he realized his mistake. The two policemen looked at each other in amazement. Never in their career had they heard a confession such as this.

As the policemen put the handcuffs on Bud’s wrists and led him away, he looked at Carl and said spitefully, “Congratulations, kiddo. I understand you’re gonna be a father. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”


	9. Chapter 9

“What does Bud mean?” Carl wondered out loud. “How can I be a father when I haven’t -- ” Jeanne began to laugh and cry at the same time. Carl stared at her. “What on earth did you tell him?” he demanded.

“I - when he was pointing the gun at my stomach I started to think maybe he’d let me go if I was pregnant, and before I knew it the words fell out of my mouth. I know it was stupid, but I never said the baby was yours,” Jeanne gasped, trying to make sense of what Bud just said. “He didn’t believe me - he spoke to my mother’s baby doctor - and you and the policemen came in to save me right before I was busted - but the doctor must have told Mr. Stiltz he had a patient who looked like me, and I guess Mr. Stiltz assumed it was me and the father was you.”

“Me - the father of an imaginary baby conceived at gunpoint. How did I get to be so lucky?” Carl shook his head and laughed.

Then a lump formed in his throat as he thought of his real son who lived a thousand miles away.

“You can go have a shower now,” he told her, changing the subject. “I put some pajamas in the bathroom that should fit you.”

She went, pulling her fortune out of her pocket and reading it over again. In typical fortune cookie fashion, it was a vague and almost meaningless statement, but for Jeanne it now held more meaning than the writer could have imagined. It said: “Persevere with faith and courage, and all will be well in the end.” She turned and asked Carl to read his to her.

He grabbed a cookie, broke it, and pretended to read. “ ‘Beware of redheads bearing gifts.’ Kinda late for that, ain’t it?”

“What?” she cried. “Let me see that.”

“No,” Carl said, turning away and clutching the paper tight in his fist. He went to the kitchen, and Jeanne followed him. “No, no,” he kept saying until he dropped it into the garbage disposal and flipped the switch.

“Oh well,” Jeanne shrugged. “No one believes in those things anyway.”

“What does yours say?” Carl inquired.

“It says, ‘Carl Switzer is a dumbass,’” she smirked. Then she, too, threw her fortune into the garbage disposal. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

As soon as Jeanne was in the shower Carl turned the switch off and got both fortunes out of the broken disposal. He read them thoughtfully. His said, “An important event will soon take place. Your life may be forever changed.” He had not wanted Jeanne to see it, because she would undoubtedly come up with a misguided (not to mention expensive) plan to give him a life-changing event.

With a sigh he put the food in the oven, even though he no longer felt hungry. He went to the living room and found Jeanne asleep on the couch.

“Girl,” he said softly. “You’ve just been to hell and back. You shouldn’t have to sleep here.” He went and put clean sheets on his bed, then he gently laid her on it. “It prob’ly ain’t as nice as your own bed at home,” he whispered, then wished he hadn’t said that. He could only hope the words did not penetrate her sleeping subconscious; if he came home from work the next day to find a brand new bed with satin sheets he was going to scream.

Just to make sure, he spoke slowly and clearly, “I like my bed. I do not want a new one. I repeat: do not get me a new bed.” Then he left her alone.


	10. Chapter 10

Over the next week Jeanne spent most of her free time digging up dirt on Carl’s life. She learned that he had been married to a Dian Collingwood in Kansas, and that her mother, a wealthy widow, owned something called Collingwood Grain.

 _Perhaps Daddy knows something of that, ___Jeanne thought. She went into his office and began searching his books. It wasn’t hard. Paul Kellermann was nothing if not organized. Though she was generally not interested in her father’s business dealings, at this moment she was very pleased to find he was an investor in Collingwood Grain. She was even more pleased to find Mrs. Collingwood’s phone number. She called her immediately, knowing exactly what she was going to say.

“Mrs. Collingwood? My name is Jeanne Kellermann. I think you know my father, Paul Kellermann. Well, my sister has designed a line of children’s clothing and wanted to know if you know any children who could model the clothes...yes, there are plenty of kids already here, but we want to see kids from all over the United States. We plan to advertise this opportunity to the general public very soon. First we want to see the children of a randomly selected few of our father’s, ah, investees.” Jeanne felt a faint twinge of guilt after delivering that speech. She half hoped Mrs. Collingwood wasn’t buying it.

She was. “So you have a five year old grandson? That’s perfect. My family will pay airfare for him and one parent. When would it be convenient for them to come? A week from tomorrow. Great. Thank you and have a good evening.”

Well, part of what she said was true. Portia did design some children’s clothes, and she had photos of local kids wearing them. But they were only a school project yet to be presented to her class and given a grade.

All Jeanne had to do now was get Carl to be at her house on the day his wife and son were scheduled to arrive, and neither of them could know the other was going to be there. She kept telling herself it was a special surprise gift and they would be happy to see each other, but in the back of her mind she was really afraid bringing them together might prove catastrophic. After all, she did not know why they separated in the first place. There were any number of possible reasons ranging from boredom to attempted murder. She doubted it was the latter. Still, they could have been angry with each other when they separated.

 _Stop worrying,_ Jeanne thought. _I’m sure they can behave in a civilized manner, and if they can’t, I’ll have the guards remove them. Everything will be fine._

With that, she decided to move forward with the next step, which was to send Carl a telegram inviting him to dinner.


	11. Chapter 11

The morning of February 6th Jeanne did not attend class. She gave her research paper to her friend Tracy to turn in for her and hurried home, anxious and nervous about the events that lay ahead. (Incidentally, the paper was for ethics class and it was about whether it was acceptable to tell a small lie in order to bring greater benefits to all who were involved.) 

At the same moment that she was arriving home, a taxi came up the street and stopped in front of her house. A pretty dark-haired lady and a little boy got out. Jeanne saw them and knew at once who they were.

“Miss Collingwood!” she called out excitedly before she even got her car in the driveway. She had forgotten two things: first, that Miss Collingwood came out not to be reunited with her husband but for a modeling job; and second, she had been under the impression that other parents and children would be coming as well. Miss Collingwood, holding the boy’s hand, approached the car and inquired, “How many others are coming?””

“Others?” Jeanne repeated blankly. Suddenly she remembered. “Oh, right. Well, I, ah, thought it would be far less chaotic around here if I just invited one family at a time.” She parked the car and got out. “I see too much fighting among the stage mothers and it’s very hard on the kids. So this weekend we will focus entirely on your adorable little boy.

“I’m Miss Kellermann,” she went on, stooping down to meet the boy at eye level. “What’s your name?”

“Lance,” he answered, grinning. I’m five and a half. You’re pretty.”

Jeanne smiled and the three of them went into the house. It was nearly lunchtime and Chef Michel was preparing Niçoise salad and stuffed shiitake mushrooms. “I’ll make your lunch, Lance,” Jeanne said. “You probably like grilled cheese sandwiches, don’t you?” To Miss Collingwood she said, “Chef Michel refused to make them. He spoke French very fast, but I think he said Velveeta and Wonder bread are unfit for humans to eat - _‘la merde des cochons’_ he called it. He also said, _‘Les américains sont très stupides.’_ I’m used to him. Try not to take offense at anything he says.”

Miss Collingwood just laughed. “Velveeta and Wonder bread will be fine for me too, Jeanne. I don’t think I could eat any of that salad. On the plane I got sick twice.” She thought a moment. “Are you sure he didn’t say _‘la mère des cochons?’_ ”

“He could have,” Jeanne replied. “But given the context - either way, he was being very rude. Thanks for trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, though.”

“Actually, I was just trying to keep from being nauseated by that colorful description of what my son and I are about to eat,” Miss Collingwood grimly informed her.

“I’m sorry you’re sick, Miss Collingwood,” Jeanne said sympathetically as she began slicing cheese and buttering bread. “I thought we could go to the studio and get some photos of Lance after lunch, but maybe you’d rather wait till tomorrow.” 

“Please call me Dian,” Miss Collingwood said. “And I think we would like to rest a while and get settled in before we do anything. I should be feeling better in a few hours. The flight was just rough, that’s all.”

Jeanne put the hot sandwiches on a plate. “What do you want to drink, Lance? Lemonade, or milk? Dian, there’s beer, Coke...”

Dian stopped her. “Both of us would like milk, please, Jeanne. Thank you.” Everyone sat down to eat. Lance wanted to try a little Niçoise salad, but started gagging after tasting an anchovy. Other than that it was a pleasant meal. Chef Michel was over the moon when Dian asked him for the stuffed mushroom recipe. He was not even angry about Lance not liking the salad. “You are too young yet. Maybe when you grow up you change your mind,” he told him. “I admire you for giving it a try.”

Jeanne looked on in wonder. Most of the time Chef Michel was grouchy and rude. Her friends had learned not to come visit except on his days off; though they did not like being around him, when they did come they liked eating his leftover cooking from the day before. Sometimes Jeanne and Portia thought that was unfair.

When lunch was over Jeanne helped Dian and Lance take their things up to their rooms. Then she showed Lance the library and told him he could take any three picture books to his room. He picked out Goodnight Moon, a Noah’s Ark book and a book about trucks. Dian lay down and went right to sleep. A short time later Lance also fell asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

A little past two o’clock Dian woke up feeling much better. She went to check on Lance, who had wakened half an hour earlier and was now busy with his crayons. “I’m making a picture of you and me and Daddy,” he said. “When I meet Daddy I’m gonna give it to him.”

Dian picked the boy up and kissed him. “It’s beautiful, Lance. I know when you give him this picture he will absolutely love it.” Her heart was troubled by this development. She did not like to tell him he would not get to give Daddy the picture any time soon.

“Keep drawing, okay?” she said, putting him down. “I’m gonna go see if I can help Miss Kellermann with anything.”

“Okay, Mommy,” Lance agreed. Dian started downstairs, wondering what made Lance suddenly start thinking he was going to meet his father after all this time.

When she was halfway down, the doorbell rang. “Dian, you mind getting that?” Jeanne called to her from the kitchen. Dian cautiously opened the front door and gave a startled gasp.


	13. Chapter 13

“What are you doing here?!” Carl and Dian exclaimed at the same time. Carl said, “I didn’t know you were a friend of Jeanne’s.”

“We just met. Apparently her father is a major investor in my family’s business,” Dian explained. She went on about Jeanne’s sister and the line of clothing and the modeling job. None of it was particularly interesting until she said, “So Jeanne opened one of her father’s books to a random page. Collingwood Grain was the first thing she saw, she called Mom and here we are.”

“And here I am. Jeanne asked me to come over for dinner. She didn’t say anyone else would be here.” Carl went over to the couch, shaking his head. “Random, hell. I think that girl set us up.”

“I did set you up!” Jeanne proclaimed triumphantly, coming into the room with a tray of tea and cookies. “Am I good or what?” Carl and Dian looked at each other, not quite knowing what to say. ‘Good’ was probably not the word they would have picked. 

“Did you say anything to Lance about this?” Dian demanded. “He kept saying ‘I’m gonna meet Daddy’ and he drew a picture for him. I had just chalked it up to wishful thinking, only I couldn’t figure out what brought it on. He never expressed such a wish before.” Jeanne thought she saw Carl wince.

She hadn’t said a word to Lance or anyone else, fearful that the surprise would be spoiled if even one other person knew. But she had no explanation for what Lance said, except ‘child’s intuition.’ _That’s pathetic,_ she thought. 

To her surprise, Lance’s parents seemed to accept that.

“So...can I meet him?” Carl asked. “I won’t tell him I’m his dad if you don’t want me to. I just really want to see him.”

Dian was hesitant, but decided it would be all right if Carl wanted to introduce himself as Jeanne’s friend and nothing more. She took him upstairs to Lance’s room. Lance took to ‘Uncle Alfie’ almost instantly. The first thing he did was show him what he’d been drawing.

“All right then. You two have fun,” Dian said. “I need to go have a woman to woman chat with Jeanne.” Carl did not need to ask what it was about. She went down and took Jeanne to the kitchen and launched into a rather lengthy lecture about the dangers of springing divorced spouses on each other.


	14. Chapter 14

“You shouldn’t have brought us out here this way,” Dian concluded her lecture. “I’ve been trying to forget Carl the past several years, and Lance never even knew of him.”

“I’m sorry.” Jeanne apologized for what must have been the tenth time. What else could she say?

“I know, and I forgive you. I can see what a kind and loving person you are,” Dian said. She gave Jeanne a hug. “Please be careful, and think before you act. Now why don’t we go see what the boys are up to.”

 

“The boys” were in the library playing cards. “Aw, you beat me again,” Carl said, throwing his hands up. “Watch out for this one,” he told Dian when she and Jeanne came into the room. “He’s dangerous at old maid.”

Lance was beaming. “Uncle Alfie is real neat, Mommy. He’s been singin’ an’ teachin’ me to play poker an’ tellin’ me stories about the movies.”

“Oh, that’s nice, sweetie,” Dian replied coldly, pulling Carl out into the hall and shutting the door. “Carl Dean Switzer, have you completely lost your mind? How dare you teach my little boy to play poker?!”

Carl became defensive. “He’s my little boy too, and I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. Old maid’s okay, but it’s really a game for little girls, see.” He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up. 

“And what masculine activity do you have planned for him tomorrow, cigars and bourbon at a strip club?” Dian’s eyes were flashing angrily.

“Course not. You know I drink scotch.” Carl playfully blew a puff of smoke at her and began to laugh, but quickly stopped when her face fell and the fire in her eyes went out. _What just happened?_ he wondered. She was supposed to laugh and forget to be mad, not look ready to cry.

“Come on, Dian,” he implored, his countenance taking on a pained expression as he wished he were somewhere else - anywhere else, even dead. “Look, I didn’t mean to laugh at ya. Please don’t do that. Don’t start cryin’.”

That was really the wrong thing for him to say, because not only was she unable to obey him, but his obvious distress at having hurt her only served as a catalyst for more tears. He helplessly watched his beautiful wife dissolve into an inconsolable wreck. Carl still loved Dian and he hated himself for making her cry. He wanted to apologize and give her a comforting hug, but she drew back stiffly when he tried. In frustration he went off on her.

“You know what? You better give me a rundown of everything that’s all right for Lance, ’cause I sure as hell don’t want to fuck up the perfect way you’ve been raisin’ him without me. Furthermore, I’m sick and tired of the way you cry on purpose just to make me feel like shit. I'm glad you cheated on me, ’cause then you were someone else’s damn problem and I didn’t have to fuckin’ deal with your shit no more.”

Dian looked stunned, as if Carl had just slapped her, then she turned and ran to the bathroom and locked herself in. He felt terrible about what he just said to her. He also felt as if he could strangle Jeanne for arranging this little reunion, even though she meant well and spending time with Lance brought him more happiness than he had known in a long time. All he could think of now was how quickly it was going to be snatched away from him again. 

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he quickly brushed them away, glad that no one saw him. Switzer men never cried about anything, ever. His family had drilled that into him from the time he learned to walk. He let out a long breath and went back in the library. Jeanne had Lance on her lap and was reading to him.

“ ‘ I know it is wet and the sun is not sunny,’ ” she read.

“ ‘But we can have lots of good fun that is funny,’ ” Carl finished, brightening up a little, and much relieved that Jeanne was able to effectively render his son oblivious to what just happened outside. “May I?”

“Absolutely,” Jeanne smiled, handing him the book. “I need to go see if dinner’s almost started. The kitchen staff tend to get slack when Mother and Daddy aren’t here.” She started to leave, then stopped as if she just thought of something. “Maybe I should take the cards away for now. Play Chutes and Ladders instead, or Candyland.” She indicated the shelf full of games her family kept for when the little cousins came over.

“Oh, not another girl’s game,” Carl and Lance said together. Jeanne couldn’t help laughing to herself as she left.


End file.
